I didn’t think I would - it’s the home of tweenyboppers who ship fictional characters and reblog the same stuff everyone else is reblogging.
Whelp, guess who decided she’s actually a tweenybopper?
Here’s the thing, I don’t feel bad about this return to my tweenage years at all. Or my teenage years, for that matter.
Teenage me was full of angst, self-loathing, and had a chip on her shoulder the size of Canada. Life for that girl sucked… A lot. When I go back and look at all my journals from that time period, I sob. Hysterically. That girl was so fucked and she knew it. There was really nothing that could have made her life any better.
Don’t get me wrong, she had good friends, and she loved her father.
But.
Even if she knew she was bipolar, it wouldn’t have been treated back then. That would have been weak, and her father wouldn’t have thought that there was anything seriously wrong anyway. Shit like that didn’t exist - it was all in her head. (Ha ha ha.)
When life was bad, when the depression took over, she looked for a way out. Obviously, she never did anything about it, but the thoughts were there. Powerful. Intoxicating. A non-stop chorus of voices in her head, telling her to just do it. End this shit and move on.
When life was good, and the mania took over, she bounced all over the place. She did a lot of things she’ll never be proud of during manic periods. Hurt a lot of people, too. But, damn, she felt good when she was doing it. She can’t regret doing those things - it’s not really how she was built, anyway.
It feels like that girl managed to miss out on a lot of teenaged magic. (Either that or she lived it and mental illness turned her brain to swiss cheese. That happens, too.)
Being able to go back (emotionally) twenty something years and ship Violate like I used to love New Kids on the Block feels good. It also makes me feel like a dirty pervert, but that’s OK. (Evan Peters is ALMOST young enough to be my kid. What? He’s over 18 and that’s all that matters! )
Lately, I’ve been reminded of Spring Heeled Jack, Frogboy and BiG MiSTAKE - the soundtrack to some of my worst years - and thinking about how it does get better. I hate saying that because it’s turned into such a cliche. But it’s the truth. My life did get better… not the version of better that I always wanted, but it’s better.
I have good friends, a lot of freedom, a guy that can tolerate just about any amount of crap I throw at him living in my house, furry children that love me even when I can’t love myself…
I still struggle with the bipolar, still make decisions that I should regret but don’t, and I still know that, in a lot of different ways, I’m completely fucked.
The only difference now is that I take meds that make the voices STFU.
She was walking through the park. She wore her hair long.
Pushing it aside, she said, “i don’t want to live anymore.”
Went home to her mom and her dad.
They did not understand her, and they only got mad.
They did not like the way she acted, they did not like the way she looked,
didn’t like the color of her friends, the way she wore her hair.
So she went into her room and she looked into the mirror.
She did not like what she saw. She did not like what she saw.
She wanted to tear it all off. She wanted to see her real self.
She wanted to tear it all off. She wanted to see her real self.
Take off the mask, throw it away.
She don’t care, she don’t care, what the other ones say.
Take off the mask, throw it away.
She don’t care, she don’t care, what the other ones say.
And now it’s summer and it’s a new day rising.
She feels heat and aspiration.
She feels the sun explode. Time is bliss and bliss is time.
She sees god in everything.
She loves you - she loves me
—“Take Off The Mask” - BiG MiSTAKE
If you want to find me on Tumblr, read my crappy fiction and overdose on American Horror Story / Violate, let me know -I’ll give you the URL (.(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)).
BTW - The movie “Kick-Ass” has entirely too much violence and not enough Evan Peters.
Had a dream last night that the tree had lost its middle
November 08, 2011 ::
10:33 PM
The long awaited sequel to JAWSFEST 2005 (the 30th anniversary of the film), is JAWSFEST 2012 (for the 37th anniversary of the film, uh, OK)... and the hubby is going back to Amity Island for it. With his sister. I will gladly stay home because I am not nearly as much in love with Bruce the shark as they are.
Besides, I got to go to Boston by myself and learn all about how Jared Padalecki smooshed the do-not-push-this-button button.
—-
There’s been a lot of stuff running through my head lately - stuff that shouldn’t be there, mostly. So I’m focused on stuff that is… OH! LOOK! SHINY OBJECT!
Yeah. There’s been a lot of… LOOK!! LOOK!! LOOK!! OVER THERE!! SUPER!! SHINY!! OBJECT!!
I know why I’m prone to overthinking things - it’s a combination of introversion and bipolar - but damned if I know how to stop it. I know why I’m thinking about the things I shouldn’t be thinking about, too. Damned if I know how to stop that, too.
I guess I’m drawn to the dark side of things. The “good girls don’t do that” side of things.
Not suicide dark, not depression dark, just things that hide in the dark dark. No need to call the shrink or up my meds…
My friend, Wendy, is drawn to the dark side, too. She takes these deliciously dark photos that make me jealous of her eye, her skill with make up, all of it.
I’m not quite that skilled visually, but I’m not too bad with words, so I end up writing crap. In my journals. Where it will never be seen. Where I can write it over and over and over and over and over and… obsess over it in private.
I don’t know how to say what I want to say, how I want it to sound, so I think I’ll let the Indigo Girls try: Begin my studies with this pencil and this paper, and I’m working through the grammar of my fears
Escaped to Albany last night, to see my friends’ band play at Red Square.
I like the Albany shows - I’m meeting so much of the band’s extended family that I’m getting to the point where I’m never alone at a show. Last night, Mike looked at me and said, “I can’t remember your name, but you’re the girl from New Hampshire.” Yes, yes, I am, Mike. Then, there was Jesse. “You’re the super fan - you come from somewhere out East.” Amazingly, both of them remembered which show they met me at: Mike at the Putnam Den; Jesse at Valentine’s Upstairs.
J came with me and I don’t know if seeing me with people outside of the band gave him peace of mind or not. It’s not like I’m hanging out with random strangers at these shows… oh, wait, that’s how I met Mike and Jesse. *grin*
So many good memories from last night: Rollz did the ‘catdaddy’ dance! J FINALLY got to hear their cover of “Black and Tans”! The sign in the elevator! Annie got her fingerless gloves! My post-show whacked out dream about Tate from American Horror Story!
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Seriously, I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me, but lately I’m all shippy. Vampire Diaries’ Damon and Elena. Supernatural’s Dean and Castiel… and now AHS’ Tate and Violet.
There’s something about Tate and Violet, specifically, that really make me want to dig into the canon and start writing fanfic, or roleplay. It’s like I’m a teenager again, but without all the angst. I had written some fanfic a gazillion years ago, but I didn’t know it was a genre all it’s own, and I had NO idea it was so… complicated. What I wrote back then was decidedly NOT canon and it probably would have resulted in my being tarred and feathered. The internet has both stifled and increased my creativity. If I had known that what I wrote was so far out of canon, I probably would have never written a word of it. If I do decide to write my fanfic, now I can research the canon and not screw it up.
Of course, now that I’ve come out in favor of Violate, I’m going to have to deal with the haters. Tate is deeply disturbed, and responsible for a Columbine-like incident, but he also seems so soft, sweet, and vulnerable, that it’s hard to NOT like his character. I know there’s a lot of conflict about the school shooting storyline, and the fact that he’s a complete psycho, but his character is like an onion and I do love me some onions.
—-
So there you go - two things I’m all obsessy about - Black Mountain Symphony and American Horror Story. I’d love to write more, but I can’t keep my eyes open.
You knew what you wanted… You knew what you needed… I wasn’t a part of it… Even though I really wanted to be
I was reminded today that Dave died in 2002 of a brain aneurysm… so, I have Spring Heeled Jack running through my head.
Anyhoo - it’s time for a little bit of randomness.
1) I’m blogging again at somewhere that’s not here. The idea is to take little snippets of fiction that don’t belong anywhere and stick ‘em there. Possibly to share with That Person. Possibly to share with other writerly type people. I dunno, yet. It’s still too new.
2) The Number Crunching Ninja has hired a Jr. Ninja!!! A panel of four made a unanimous decision, so she better work out. I set up her desk today. A whole lot of cool, and a whole metric shit ton of scary. I’m still really doubting my ability to manage someone. I do have “the social skills of a nat” (sic) after all.
3) Someone out there has my EXACT NAME and is wreaking havoc with my life. Seriously - how many people out there can possibly have my combination of first, middle and last names? Granted, all the necessary credit checks, password resets, and phone calls proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that it’s NOT identity theft. Not that living with a completely fucked up coincidence is even better. I’m really glad that she settled with the collection agency about her debt to a spa. I’m sorry the furniture store is sending her to collections. I’m sorry that her bank is closing her account due to inactivity (Gee, I wonder if that has anything to do with the furniture? durdee dur.) And I’m really, really, really sorry that she has such FUCKING bad taste in movies. (Blockbuster Express made it a little too easy to change her password. Whoops.)
4) Along the same realm - there’s another me (at least first and last name), who’s apparently having marital problems. I finally had to email her husband (ex?) and tell him he was sending his pleas to the wrong person.
5) And more!!!! Your email address at gmail is considered your email address, no matter how it’s spelled. GoodAdvices @ gmail dot com (I don’t know if it exists - ain’t mine) could easily be Good.Advices or g.o.o.d.a.d.v.i.c.e.s. They will ALL redirect to the main gmail account. That could easily explain why I’m getting these other people’s emails, but it’s still annoying. It also results in more spam than one person could ever possibly sort through.
6) BU’s hockey season is depressing so far. Makes me wonder why Millan is still Parker’s go-to guy. I think his freshman year was a fluke. He hasn’t played to expectations since the National Championship year.
7) Watched UConn’s hockey team lose to Merrimack. (MERRIMACK!) Of course, fifty-five minutes in penalties, and losing two guys to game misconducts will do that to a team. That was a bullshit game. How bullshit? Benedetto was on UConn’s side all night. Just proves that T. Low should have stayed a linesman. He was a terrible linesman, too.
8) It’s only midterms and I’ve already lost all interest in being back in school. I don’t think I’m going to do a very good job on the midterm this weekend. It’s an online exam, and while I have three hours to do it, I’m terrified that we’ll lose power or something while I’m in the middle of it. If something happens before you’ve submitted the exam, you’re essentially fucked. (It’s not like they’re forecasting a Nor’easter or anything for this weekend…)
9) I’m breaking up with Every. Single. Person. in my life who is not watching “American Horror Story”. Even J is not exempt from this. This is the most amazing, creepy, well-written show on TV in forever. (Yes, I do believe I love it more than SPN right now. Nothing against SPN, but this show is really good.) Most amazing is that the douche who brought us that shitshow “Glee” is behind it. I can almost forgive him for that. Almost.
10) I’m totally in love with Tate. TOTALLY. Not only is he adorable, but he does this innocent / creepy thing well. AND THE RUBBER SUIT. OH MY GOD. I practically crapped myself when he pulled the mask off. (How cute is Evan Peters? Someone said that he reminds them of a young Malcom McDowell - circa “A Clockwork Orange”. While I was quite fond of the movie and can see the similarities, I see Rick Allen when I look at his current IMBD picture.)
ME: Yeah. I make good money, I have season tickets to my favorite hockey team, and I have the freedom to see my favorite band whenever and wherever I want.
HIM: You have such passion. You should do something with that passion. (He said something here, but I have NO IDEA what it was and then he yelled)... INDIE MUSIC!
Yeah… I should do something with my passion for indie music, since it ended so well the last time. He knows how it ended, too, so that was a bit of a surprise.
It’s a shame he was so ‘faced that he doesn’t remember that conversation. I’d love to know what he said.
——
Also - all of BMS uses the word “wiener” to describe the male genitalia, except for Rollz who called it a “cock” once before reverting back to “wiener”. Coming from a group of friends who yell “PENIS!” at each other, it’s kind of a refreshing change. (And that conversation about Ron Jeremy’s killer wiener makes me want to trade my stick in for an automatic… I suppose I need to see that movie now. *shudders*)
